The hat was cackling in another room and the hair sighed heavily. “What is it now?” he asked.
The hat shouted back:
a) “Rob Rosenstein resigned!”
b) “Rob Rosenstein committed suicide!”
c) “Brett pulled his dick out on TV!”
d) “Brett sacrificed children to Baal while in law school!”
e) “Jeff Sessions exploded!”
“_____________________?!?” the hair asked, shocked. “Wow, I can’t believe it!”
“I know,” the hat replied. “I can’t imagine what Donald is going to do.”
a) Verbally abuse Sarah Huckabee Sanders
b) Blame the New York Times
c) Order a Diet Coke and a Sausage McGriddle
d) Become elated and then paranoid
e) All of the above
“Yeah, I can see that,” the hat yelled back. “What do you want to eat for dinner?”
“I want meat!” the hair asked.
“Meat? What kind of meat?”
“Beef. I want beef. Bloody red cow meat.”
“I thought you only ate Rogaine and weaker toupees,” the hat asked. The toilet flushed loudly in the room he was in.
“I need the protein sometimes. It’s the fall weather. I might begin to molt.”
“Molt?” the hat asked. “Molt? What the fuck are you talking about?”
“I need to get bigger. There’s not much of Donald’s natural hair left. I’m holding on to his ears half the time as it is.”
“OK. As long as it doesn’t interfere with [satirical take on current new event], I guess that will be OK.”
“If I need to molt, I’ll molt,” the hair said. “It’s not really up to you or Donald or [subject/event of current story].”